


i'm not a saint but do i have to be

by LilyEmily



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, friends brother AU, prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyEmily/pseuds/LilyEmily
Summary: It's kinda like watching a car crash in slow motion. Disaster has just ensued and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.There's a voice inside of Isak's head screaming "this isn’t fair" and an ambivalent feeling of defiance and defeat overcomes him.I mean after living through the literally most painful cliché of crushing on your straight best friend for over a year, the universe really should be a little kinder to him. Like sorta “now you’ve reached your low point, it’s all smooth sailing from here tiny gay, you have survived the trial" but of course that isn't the case. Of course Even is here, and of course, he's Daniel's older brother.And all Isak can do is readjust his scarf so the hickey is covered, introduce himself politely, and secretly glare at Even who somehow seems to find Isaks confusion all too entertaining.or"holy shit my one night stand turned out to be my friends brother, and wow he's actually really hot when i'm sober too"





	1. a fool could see just how much i adore you

 

 

 

 

"So are you here alone, or?" the boy asks leaning in to talk over the music.

"Oh, no actually I'm here with some friends, but they left like..." he checks his phone for the time. "..half an hour ago to smoke a cigarette, and they haven't come back, and I should go find them but there's a real chance someone is throwing up, and.." the boy throws his head back in laughter.

  
"I just, I don't wanna deal with that, so I'm sorta stuck alone..." he continues his rambling, not failing to see the absurdity. The boy only continues to smile and takes another step forward, another step closer to Isak.

 

"Well I'll keep you company, how about that?"

 

Isak nods and that's how it starts

* * *

 

 

 

His name is Even he learns. It's been playing over and over again in Isak's head in the rhythm of wedding bells for the duration of their conversation.  
Isak still has a lump in his throat after twenty minutes of forcing his concentration of Even's eyes and words, instead of letting his eyes and mind wander. The boy is first of all ridiculously tall, his t-shirt clings to him like something out of a fucking American Apparel commercial and he just looks so _good_ he looks like he doesn't belong here, here with the awkward and scrawny teenagers. Isak included. He stands and talks with a confidence Isak could only hope to imitate, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth constantly. A mouth that has proven to be the _most_  distracting thing ever.

He had just marched right up to him, in the narrow hall leading to the backrooms and introduced himself, with a godlike smile and an easiness a person like Isak, who sometimes got anxiety talking to the cashier, was entirely envious and in awe of.

Isak wonders if the gay is somehow visible on him.

He isn't out, and he doesn't know anyone in this club so unless it's like a _vibe_ he's giving off, Even couldn't possibly know. Or maybe he doesn't know, and he's just a lot fucking braver than Isak, maybe he's just going for it anyway.

Or maybe, maybe Isak is drunk and totally misreading the signals, and they have not been flirting for almost half an hour. Like maybe this wasn't standing close, maybe this was the normal distance between two straight guys, maybe this guy takes really deep breaths and that's why Isak can feel the hot air on his face.

Maybe Isak is _very_ drunk, and this guy who looks like he just walked out of a Baz Luhrmann movie, isn't looking at him like he is the winning lottery ticket.

And ~~nope, nevermind,~~ he definitely was not misreading the signals. Just, cancel that thought.

Because Isak is all too familiar with straight culture, and it somehow doesn't seem very straight when Even leans in unbelievably slowly and lets his lips hover over Isak's until he closes the space and they are making out in a deserted hallway.

Isak thinks to himself that he probably tastes of alcohol and that the fingers he curled into Even’s hair might be too eager, but he can’t really bring himself to care. Not when he is being kissed like that. Not lazily like high school boys have kissed him, or aggressively as older men have tried to when he was drunk enough. He kisses him like he is important and the pace is just right. So he just lets himself exist fully, enjoying the kiss and the hand on his waist.

"Heh, _Jeg liker deg_ Isak, " Even says smiling brightly when they finally break apart, running a thumb along Isak’s jaw.

Isak leans up to kiss him again but Even leans back a fraction, and look into his eyes intently.

"Isak," he says, his voice laced with something that sends shivers down Isak's spine.

He swallows hard and nods softly, looking up at Even through his eyelashes.

"Can I take you home?"

Isak suddenly feels a little dizzy and just nods again. But Even raises his eyebrows, as if waiting for verbal confirmation.

Isak breaths nervously, "yeah, you can take me home" he tries to muster a smile. Which should be a lot easier considering how lucky he is currently feeling.

If Even notices, he doesn't comment on it and just smiles again.

When Even leaves to grab his jacket, Isak takes a large swig of his cup to drink up some courage and makes a disgusted face as the liquid slides down his throat. The drink is definitely like 70% vodka and 30% soda, and in hindsight, the decision to let Magnus decide the mixing ratio for him really wasn’t that great. But he could really use some more confidence, and somehow alcohol seems to provide that for him.

In the end, they end up going to Isak's place, because it's in walking distance from the club, and neither of them feels like taking the tram sporting semi hard-ons from making out.

They stumble through the streets of Oslo like love drunk idiots. Joking, shouting, sharing a cigarette and sometimes stopping to make out against a building just for the hell of it. And a joyous feeling of being truly alive settles in Isak's stomach as he thinks of the night that's in store.

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning Isak wakes up to an empty bed. His head is throbbing and it actually takes him a few minutes before the memories of the night before begins flooding back, and he understands that there is something strange about the unoccupied spot next to him. _There was someone there last night._

 _He left_ A sudden pang of sadness washes over Isak as the realization hits him fully. He must've woken up earlier and snuck out.

 _Of course, he left_  he tells himself.

  
_What was he supposed to do?_

 

_what would you have done?_

Even as he reasons with himself the feeling still weighs heavy on him. 

And in the midst of feeling sorry for himself, something on his yellow nightstand catches his eye. It's a piece of paper that wasn't there before. He scrambles over his bed to look at it. When he takes it in his breath almost stops.

  
It's phone number and a drawing of a curly haired boy sleeping, _is that me?_ He thinks, with the text:

Sorry I had to go,  
you look cute when you sleep

Isak stared at the paper, feeling a mixture between ecstatic and horrified.  So he hadn't just left.  Well, he had, but he had left a note.  
_And a phone number_ he thought. Initially, the thought excited him, that he had woken up and thought of him before leaving. That he invited Isak to contact him.

But then the fear kicked in. All the questions. The uncertainty. 

  
And there his weekend went. He spent ridiculous amounts of time wondering whether or not he should text him. And if he did, what he should say?

Did Even remember his name? should he reintroduce himself? Or should he roll totally casual, with a simple "hey" or would that seem weird?  
He got close to sending a message a few times, typing it out and letting his finger hover above the send button before chickening out and deleting it all.

Maybe it was just supposed to stay a one night stand. Maybe he had still been drunk when he woke up and written the note, and was now regretting it. And maybe seeing or hearing from Isak totally sober would be a disappointment. All too many maybes.   
So Saturday and Sunday passed and he didn't send anything, but only grew more and more discouraged.

 

And when Monday rolled around he was grateful to have a distraction, even if it meant getting up early to go to school.

 

 


	2. gotta hold my head up high

 

 

 

 

Isak is a bit of a fashion icon if he does say so himself. The way he wears 37 layers of clothes because freezing your ass off is for the stuck up penetrators who walks around only in hoodies all year. And the way his purple scarf matches the purplish bags under his eyes, the pride and joy of his ensemble. Truly iconic.

Of course what the others can’t see is the fact that the only reason he is wearing the scarf is to cover the, also purplish, hickey on his neck. A painful and embarrassing reminder of his weekend.

See Isak has always been prone to heavy under eye rings. He is pale and skinny, and he sleeps less than is considered healthy. This particular weekend wasn’t irregular, Isak tells himself. Yeah, maybe he spent some of the night hours sweeping the internet for various combinations of _Even, Oslo, tall, sex god,_ only to come up empty-handed, but not all of them.

And he usually doesn’t sleep much, and when he does the hours are all screwed because there is something comforting and intimate about being awake at night and sleeping the day away.

Point being, that there was no correlation between the eye-bags and his weekend encounter. Because to be honest, the eye-bags and the lack of sleep was probably the most, if not the only, consistent thing about him.

  
He spends classes not thinking about Even, and not finishing his notes in class because - fuck it, it’s impossible to stay concentrated, honestly, 90 minutes of listening to a teacher whose dreams died long ago, run chalk along the board and talk about the anatomy of genocide, _could and should_ qualify as torture.

The only redeeming feature of the school day is lunch break, where he sits with his friends, eating his pasta-salad, and listening to Magnus tell how he **almost** tried MDMA last weekend, and Isak half laughs, half gives him the usual disapproving look and says "Stay away from drugs mags, they're bad for you"  
And Magnus, as always, answers it with, "Says you"

And Jonas says that it probably just was brown sugar and not actual drugs,

And they group kinda shrugs collectively and moves on.

And the school day kind of continues like that. Going by routine, same as always.

In Norwegian class, it’s that time a year again where they turn their narrow minds outwards and focus on other Scandinavian literature. An annual nationwide project, that literally no one gives a shit about. The choices are usually Swedish and Danish because they are the closest to the Norwegian language which saves translating time, but once in while a stupid overachieving student will try translating Finnish and end up hating themselves for it.

“So I'm thinking we’re doing this in groups of…two people each” the teacher skims the class, “You chose who you work with, and then you have to find a Danish poet and translate and analyse a work of theirs - And I will absolutely fail the person that brings in a paper on Dan Turell or Mikael Strunge, be creative kids” he pauses as if expecting a laugh, before he waves dismissively and sits down again, seemingly disappointed.

People begin talking throughout the classroom, his friend beginning to chatter away as well, and Isak closes his eyes, tuning out the voices in response.  
Of course, that tactic doesn't prove useful when he realizes Daniel isn't just chatting with someone, he is trying to talk to him.  
He forces his eyes open and pays attention to the boy.

“-my brother’s sort of a poetry nerd so he can probably find someone if, you know, we need it? which we might, if he's in a good mood that is"  
  
Isak stares puzzled for a fraction of a second before he pieces it together, /he's talking about working together./

On the assignment.

 _Right._  
  
He nods his head hurriedly in agreement, "Yeah, great, that sounds good"

Daniel's a very charming and easy-going guy. Isak considers him a kind of half-friend.  
They had met at one of Eva's parties at the beginning of the year. He and the hostess were practically attached by their mouths, only interrupted by drink breaks and Eva occasionally feeling the need to introduce him to her friends, and whoever else would listen.

It was only a drunken hookup and the two never pursued anything further. Daniel didn’t really keep in touch with the rest of Isaks friends whom he had met at the party. But it turned out he and Isak were in the same Norwegian class, and they ended up sitting next to each other, and little by little moved from strangers to well...Half-friends.

“So, we go to mine after school?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
“This is us”

He follows Daniel through the door and gives it a good long stare when it closes.

“Cool” he mutters with furrowed brows, to which Daniel shrugs, “Brother said green is a peaceful color, don't know why it had to be _the_ _door_ though, comes with being an artist I guess”

“Artist? I thought he was a poetry nerd?”  
  
“He’s a lot of things” he chuckles, and Isak nods pretending to understand.

He shows Isak around. He originally thought the door was odd, but it fits perfectly with the rest of the apartment. Colorful art hanging on the walls, a large light blue Persian floor carpet, tall houseplants and the brightly colored Ikea furniture. On the shelf books and movies, he's never even heard of is stacked messily, like they are frequently used.

“Neat place,” he says glancing at Daniel who is already looking at him, as he admires the apartment.

  
“Yeah, mama has some kind of color and pattern fetish, it’s out of control” he laughs heartily. “Guess the artist thing runs in the family”

Isak laughs with him, “And you? Are you, I mean do yo-”

“Nah I'm not artsy at all, the black sheep apparently, maybe I was adopted” he ponders, grinning.

“Who’s adopted?” a disembodied voice rings through the living room.

And ~~_oh fuck_~~ , he knows that voice.

The color drains from Isak’s face, _please no._

All hope is tossed out the window when a tall figure with messy blond hair emerges from the hallway and grins at Daniel. Isak tries to control his features then, to seem unsuspicious, but he can’t. His face is stuck in some kind of weird grimace and he looks like he’s just had the wind completely knocked out of him. Which he has.

“This is my brother Even,” Daniel says gesturing from him to Isak. Even looks at him for the first time since he entered the room, and to very little consolation Even gets the same kind of panicked look on his face his brows flying up and his mouth hanging slightly open, confusion closely followed by the horrible realization evident on his face.  
There is honestly so many things wrong with the situation, Isak just has to put the moment on pause and just _fucking think_

So, first and most pressing, it seems he slept with his friends older brother. Which is really fucking weird. Isak considers for a moment, just turning around and walking away like, _fuck this I'm out._

Except that's the whole problem, or one of them anyway, he isn't out.

Daniel does not know he is gay, the same way basically no one does. Daniel  _can not know._  
Which means _**Even**_ can't tell him, which is something he might have to communicate to him. Just, without using words.

But he probably doesn't have to. He can't imagine Even would want his brother to know he picked up his friend from a bar and went to his place. Also considering he must have pieced together now, that Isak is 17 just like Daniel, and not 18 like he had told him that night, it's even less something he'd want to boast about.

Isak's face burns hot with embarrassment at the realization.

He looks at Even again. And he almost loses his shit completely, when he sees Even with something stretched across his lips, that too strongly resembles a smirk. **That tall bitch.**

“Hey” the smirk doesn’t leave his face as he speaks, locking eyes with Isak, making him want to pass out.  
Slip into a coma.

  
Anything really.

An Image of him flying directly into the sun appears in his mind, and he saves it for later.

There's a voice inside of Isak's head screaming _this isn’t fair_ and an ambivalent feeling of defiance and defeat overcomes him. He wants to cry and fight at the same time.  
I mean after living through the literally most painful cliché of crushing on your straight best friend for over a year, the universe really should be a little kinder to him. Like sorta “now you’ve reached your low point, it’s all smooth sailing from here tiny gay, you have survived the trial" but of course that isn't the case. Of course Even is here, and of course, he's Daniel's older brother.

  
And all Isak can do is readjust his scarf so the hickey is covered, introduce himself politely, and secretly glare at Even who somehow seems to find Isaks confusion all too entertaining.  
  
“Hi, I'm Isak”  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, yes it is i, the one who takes unreasonably long time to write a shit chapter... 
> 
> i hope it's acceptable though, i am well aware that there are probably many mistakes but i really do take constructive critism if u have any :)))

**Author's Note:**

> wow putting your stuff out there is kinda scary, even though it's just fanfiction. Anyhow, i am aware that this has some mistakes, i did the editing while very tired and a lil high so yeah. And English grammar still confuse me :))
> 
> i hope you liked it :)))


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